Top Shelf
by Shiloh Moon
Summary: The day that proves Edward's long-suffering shortness never ceases, even during the holidays. Inspired by Thanksgiving. One-Shot.


Top Shelf

 **Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.**

 **Welcome to my fourth one-shot! This one oughta be a lot brighter than my last one, since I'm focusing on something comedic.**

 **Warnings: Cursing and the long-suffering struggle of Ed and his shortness.**

 **Pairings: Mild Ed/Winry.**

 **Enjoy. :)**

o.O.0.O.o

 _Tall, tube-like shape, smooth… that's the shampoo bottle, you idiot!_

 _Bar-shaped, waxy… definitely the soap. But why is it out of the box? Who cares, keep searching._

 _Wha- what the hell is that?! Eeewww, it's slimy! Oh my god, it's sticky, too! Disgusting!_

 _Soft, warm, kind of furry— OUCH! IT BIT ME! STUPID RAT!_

 _Dammit, where the hell is it?_

"What are you doing, brother?"

"AHHH!"

 _ **CRASH!**_

The blond rubbed his bruised forehead and peered up at the armor.

"I'm looking for something, Al!" he snarled, "DO YOU MIND?!"

Alphonse crossed his arms and huffed. "Well _someone_ took his attitude pills today!"

"I DON'T HAVE AN ATTITUDE! I lost my watch, and I _really_ need it back!"

"Well, it's not _my_ fault you lost your—wait, WHAT?! What do you mean you LOST it?"

Edward pulled himself to his feet and shoved the stepping stool back into the closet. "It's gone! I can't find it anywhere!"

"Where was the last place you remember seeing it?"

"In the—ˮ he stopped, suddenly realizing something.

"In the hotel." the two boys chorused.

o.O.0.O.o

Golden irises scanned the various shelves of products. Rows upon rows of cream potato, but no tomato soup. This was getting frustrating. Five times this happened to him, each time he'd have to ask one of the store employees where they'd moved the particular kind of soup. However, unlike the last five times, Edward would have to hurdle a new and embarrassingly inconvenient obstacle to get to Elicia's favorite canned dish. Like a warrior, he stood. He gazed up at his newest challenge, determination and conviction written across his creased brow.

There, on the very top shelf of the rack, the cans of red sat mockingly. As if they had actually insulted him, Edward growled at them in response. This earned him a few sideways glances from passerbys, but he didn't care. The only thing he was concerned about at the moment was how he would get that soup without any assistance from the store employees or fellow shoppers.

Of course, the very first thing he tried was just reaching for it while standing on his toes. Too bad his fingertips were off by exactly two feet. Muttering curses to himself, the teen begrudgingly looked around for any stray stepping stools. To his disappointment, there were none. Only rickety old crates that would surely collapse under his collective weight of automail and what remained of his body.

The next thing he tried nearly got him kicked out of the store: climbing the shelves. After a thorough yelling at from the manager and several employees, he gave up on scaling the shelves and focused on alchemical tactics instead. Unfortunately, this got him into even worse trouble with the store. They'd demanded he fix the damage he'd caused, as well as repair the fan in the break room.

Finally, he tried jumping to get to the desired can of soup. After three failed attempts, someone burst out laughing behind him, causing him to whirl around.

To his surprise, it was Elicia.

Mr. Hughes chuckled behind her. "I'll give you props for trying, Ed. But I don't think you're the right man for the job."

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT IT TAKES HIM A MONTH JUST CLIMB A MOLEHILL?!"

Ignoring the teen's outburst, but not without laughing, the man reached up and grabbed the elevated soup can with ease. With a smile, he bent down and handed it to his beloved daughter, who cheered and thanked her father graciously.

Edward was still fuming, but the infectious mood of the moment held back any bitter remarks.

o.O.0.O.o

"Ed?" Gracia asked, pulling the roasted bird out of the oven. "Could you hand me the paprika? It's on the top shelf."

"Sure, Mrs. Hughes."

It was only until he stopped in front of the pantry that it finally sank in: the _top shelf_. His sworn enemy. The bane of his existence. And the small jar of spice smirked down at him, challenging him to do the impossible. No stool, and no pride left to spare. It was all or nothing.

Time slowed to a crawl, as if the entire world had been encased in a giant bottle of syrup. He rose up and onto his toes, extending his fingers. When his arm ran out of length, his fingertips just barely brushed the jar. Sweat beaded across his forehead and dripped down his neck. His heart pounded against his ribcage. His remaining flesh limbs grew weak and shaky. Despite all this, the teen set his jaw bravely and plunged forth.

SUCCESS!

After all the hell he'd been through earlier that day, this one seemingly small success washed away the rest of his sufferings. His chest swelled with happiness and pride. He was certain it showed on his face but he didn't care: he finally retrieved something from the top shelf on his own! Sure, he had to stand on his toes, but it was better than a stool! He could feel his pride restoring itself.

Then Gracia frowned as she examined the jar and said the one thing that sent his entire world crashing down again,

"Ed, paprika is the red one. You brought me the Basel."

o.O.0.O.o

The dinner was well worth his useless efforts earlier that day. Spread across the large wooden table was a generous feast, each dish steaming and glistening with melted butter or gravy. Serving as the centerpiece and main course, a large duck sat browned and polished to perfection. The creamy scent of the mashed potatoes wafted throughout the room, making everyone in proximity drool with anticipation. A heavenly stew simmered atop the stove at the moment, which the hostess declared its readiness to be mere minutes away. In the decorated bowl sitting in front of Elicia was none other than the cooked tomato soup he had tried so desperately to obtain on his own earlier. She grinned easily as she waited for the hostess to give the signal.

As did everyone else. Edward's "plus one" seated herself right next to him, causing him to blush slightly when he caught her eye every so often. God, she looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was let down and curled on the ends. She wore a tight-fitting knee length auburn dress with an orange and brown scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Small traces of black eyeliner adorned her almond-shaped eyes and made their azure blue pop. He'd told her to dress a little nicer than her usual grease-monkey jumpsuit, but he hadn't been expecting her to clean up like _this_.

Across the table from them sat Mr. Hughes and an empty chair for Mrs. Hughes, who was currently laying out the rest of the food, including Edward's specially requested stew. On the other side of Mr. Hughes was the Colonel Bastard himself, Roy Mustang. The man laughed as he chatted with his dinner date, Riza Hawkeye, who appeared to have cleaned up just as nicely as Edward's own dinner date. On the other side of Edward, an unfamiliar couple sat; family of the Hughes, he assumed. At the very ends of the table were the rest of the squadron. Kain Fuery and Vato Falman were seated at the north end, Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda at the south. All of them wore casual dress, which Edward wasn't used to seeing.

The only remaining member wasn't even in the room. Alphonse was likely reading upstairs since he couldn't exactly take part in the celebration. Mr. Hughes had insisted he join anyway, but Al, being Al, convinced him to let him check out some of Gracia's grandfather's alchemy journals. With her permission, of course.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they all took Gracia's cue to hold hands and say grace. Winry slipped her hand into his, sending a bolt of electricity up his flesh arm. When the small prayer was completed, everyone gladly dug into the feast.

o.O.0.O.o

He lounged on the couch, his stomach full and exposed beneath his shirt. He'd belched roughly five times in the last ten minutes, and showed no signs of getting up any time soon. The men who took part in the feast spread themselves across the various couches in a similar manner as he. The women, who'd held back during their feastings, cleaned up the mess left in their wake. Except for Winry, who curled up next to him on the couch, her fingers laced through his comfortingly. A small fire crackled softly, sending waves of warmth washing over the room every other moment. Alphonse sat in the reading chair by the door with the musty old journals, handling them with care while he enjoyed the company of the half-sleeping dinner guests.

Later, when Edward felt a little less bloated, he rose from the couch and reluctantly detached himself from Winry's warm embrace to use the restroom.

"Ed?"

He turned around. "Yeah, Winry?"

She pointed tiredly to the corner of the room. "Could you fetch my purse and the _Autumn Cabin_ book? My purse is—ˮ

"Please don't tell me it's on the top shelf…" he interrupted grouchily.

Winry blinked. "Um, no. It's on the dresser."

The golden-haired teen sighed in relief and started walking towards the dresser.

"But the book is on the top shelf."

o.O.0.O.o

 **Hello again! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it! The wonderful holiday is what inspired me this time.**

 **Until next time! ~**


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